Cloudy
by Funkiechick
Summary: "In a way, he has the power over me, and I don't have anything on him. He knows what I'll do. Him, I have no clue." PG-13" Swears, Innuendo, SLASH. Spot/Race R


Cloudy  
  
By Funkiechick  
  
(Yes, more Spot/Race. From Spot's point of view, kinda angsty. Because what else do we love more than SLASH angst? Anyhow, I got this idea when listening to that lovely song by Paul Simon. Enjoy.)  
  
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I'd never tell you that the best part about these nights is laying there afterward, staring at you.  
  
God, your face is so damned perfect.  
  
I hate how much I want to be consumed by you. I've never felt more weak in my entire life, here next to you, tracing my finger tips across your cheek bone. Your eyes are slightly closed, watching my hand, your breath slowing down. You take a deep sigh, and let your head collapse against the pillow.  
  
I grin. "Can't keep up wid' me?" I say something sexual. Like I always do. Make it seem as if that's all it is. I'm not about to tell him I stare into his eyes. Spot Conlon doesn't stare into eyes, unless he's trying to scare the shit out of somebody.  
  
Hell, that's half true. When I stare into his eyes, it does scare the shit out of somebody. Scares the shit out of me. You're like some sort of disease. Hah.  
  
Best damned disease I've ever had.  
  
"Spot..." You breath. You had this look on your face. You should have caught your breath by now. But you haven't. You look nervous. Scared.  
  
I'm scaring you.  
  
I never scare you.  
  
I scare everyone but you. Must be half of why it's you and not someone else. You never tried to run. I remember so many times, where you'd pat my back like a chum, talk to me as an equal. No else did that. They all marveled at you when you did.   
  
So now that you look scared, I'm more scared. You never look this way.  
  
"Spot, I love yous." You choke out. "I mean, I din't know if I did or not, but..." You nod. "I do."  
  
Isn't this what I want to hear? Shit.  
  
Yes.  
  
"What?" Is what I say. I'm looking down at you. My throat is closing up. My entire body feels like it's closing. I'm physically incapable of saying it back to you. I've never said those words in my life.  
  
Love was what happened to Mush.  
  
Love was what happened to The Mouth.  
  
At most, Love happened to Cowboy.  
  
It didn't happen to me. It never had before. I might as well have never learned the words. I didn't love things. Maybe Brooklyn, at most. Because that was where I was in charge, but people were different. A person was different. I'd tried too hard all these years to fight it, for it to come back and beat me.  
  
It was.  
  
You were.  
  
Everything about you was impossible not to be in love with.  
  
"I love yous." You repeat. You're voice is trembling now, cracking. "God, I... you have no idea how much."  
  
I'm sneering, I don't mean to. And it starts. I've already pushed them all away. The strike, when all us Manhattan Newsies were buddies, that was as close as you got. They all backed off.  
  
You had to come back.  
  
You with your poker, and your gambling, and that fucking cigar you always had to smoke. You were too damned irresistible.  
  
And you know I'm holding something back. You hate it when I do that. "Do ya love me?"  
  
Yes.   
  
How couldn't I?  
  
You're everything.  
  
I've never loved anyone more.  
  
I've never loved anyone in my life. Not this one, anyway. But I don't say anything. I want to. More than you wouldn't believe, I want to. I want to push it out, I want to yell it. I want you to hear it. My head is so full of ways I want to tell you. Still, nothing comes out.  
  
My mouth is so unaccustomed to saying anything I feel.   
  
Yes, I goddamned love you. What the hell do you think?  
  
"Spot?"  
  
Say something.  
  
"I shouln' of said nothin'."  
  
Yes you should have.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Goddamnit, don't be sorry for loving me. Is it that bad? I wouldn't know. I've never loved anyone before now. And I sure as hell don't love me. Must be shit.  
  
You have to understand me. You have to feel everything for me. You're the only person in the world who loves me. I feel so fucking sorry for you...  
  
"Yous takin' it back?" I mumble. You still hear me, you're too aware to have drifted off. You're sitting up next to me now, looking at me, and I don't want to look back at you. Just in case. In case I tell you not to love me, tell you to run really fast, really far away.  
  
But I do look. Watch your face. Look at the faint freckles across your nose. I know your face. I know your body. I know all of you. You aren't backing down. "No. I aint. Just kinda embaressin' ta say somethin' ta no reply, ya know?"  
  
"What am I s'posed ta say?"  
  
"You love me too?"  
  
I shoot him a glare. "Make me, Higgins."  
  
Then suddenly he grins. Laughs. It wasn't meant to be funny. I really do dare you to make me say it. Because I wont, you stupid little...  
  
Hot, sexy, perfect Italian.  
  
"You think somethin's funny?" I snap. Of course he does. He knows me too well. It's comforting, for someone to know me. I wont tell anyone that, wont say that. Kind of nice not having to say anything. He already knows.  
  
"Nothin', just can't imagine anyone makin' ya do ANYTHIN' Spot."  
  
Oh.  
  
Damn right.  
  
He still has this look though, behind the front he always puts up. He wants to hear SOMETHING. Anything, anything at all. I don't want to. He already knows, don't he?  
  
He should.  
  
Because I don't know what to tell him.  
  
I wish I did.  
  
I wish it wasn't so hard.  
  
Can't he live with just knowing? Without me having to say anything? Did he have to bring it up?...yeah. 'Cause I didn't know. In a way, he has the power over me, and I don't have anything on him. He knows what I'll do. Him, I have no clue.  
  
"Forget it." Racetrack Higgins says, his head bowing slightly. He gets out of bed, not looking for me. Starts dressing, still not looking at me. Reaches for his shirt, but I grab it. Make him look at me.  
  
No one ignores me.  
  
Least of all, you.  
  
"Yeah." I nod, still holding the shirt that you're not even trying to get back. "You know I do."  
  
For a moment, you say nothing. You do nothing. All you do is just stare at me. There. That's the best I can do. You better not ask for more. Because from the smile you got on your face, I just might say it, so you'll smile again.  
  
Then we're kissing. And you start muttering about why you'd started getting dressed in the first place.  
  
And later on, you're asleep, and I'm awake, staring at you more.  
  
God, your face is so damned perfect.  
  
"I love you." I mutter. "God damnit, too much. Way too much."  
  
You're sleeping.  
  
I thought I'd be thankful.  
  
But when you say that to someone and they don't hear, then where do the words go? They're too powerful to be forgotten. Too much to waste away. Every time I'm in this room, I'll hear them. I'll remember that I said it. First time, Spot Conlon says 'I love you'. And Racetrack isn't even awake.  
  
I'll waste away if you don't hear it.  
  
But I said it already, I wont be able to say it again for...for as long as I take. The urge will come again, hopefully when you're conscious. Or near me. And if no one else is around. (Cowboy would never let me live THAT one down.)  
  
Then again, if I tell you, neither will you.  
  
'Hey, fellas, guess what Spotty here said?'  
  
You'd do that, too.  
  
So the words are floating away somewhere. I guess they stay where most of my emotion does.  
  
With you.  
  
Huh.  
  
So that's where I am.  
  
All those times I was lost, all those times I wondered how to get home, and it was all you.  
  
I lay down next to you now, trying to fall asleep. But I can't. I don't care that Mush makes it over rated. I don't care if Dave makes it too damned intellectual. I don't care if Jacky-Boy makes it essential.  
  
In the end, it's mine. My love. Not theirs.  
  
"So who gives a rats ass about them?" I say out loud. "I don' know wheres my emotions are goin' now. I don' know what I'll be likes around you from here on out, Race. So ya better goddamn know how to keep me from doin' nothin' stupid."  
  
You moan.  
  
Uh oh.  
  
You better not be awake, you little jerk.  
  
"Yous already stupid, Spotty." You said tiredly. "Now shut up. I got yer back, okay?"  
  
I shut up for a moment. Only command of yours that'll ever work on me, I promise you. Then I have to ask. I mean, what the hell? I can do whatever the hell I want. "Did ya hear?"  
  
"Which part?"  
  
"Da part at da beginning."  
  
'The I love you part, stupid!!'  
  
"Yeah. I heard it."  
  
"...good."  
  
I don't know where I'm going. I don't know what my questions mean. But hell, at least you know. And I know.  
  
I can get by.  
  
God...  
  
Your face is so perfect.  
  
-END-  
  
(I even had my dad proof read this, that's how seriously I was taking it. I wanted this to be a good fic. Granted, you wont read this until Concerto is more under way, since that is my prime source of work right now, right next to Breaking Hazel. Anyhow, I really hope you liked it, because I am damned proud.) 


End file.
